


rachis

by verfox



Series: anatomy of a feather [1]
Category: HLVRAI - Fandom, Half Life VR But The AI Is Self Aware
Genre: Clothed Sex, Coming In Pants, Desperation, Frottage, M/M, Wingfic, getting off on being studied, gordon doesn't know better than to touch the wings, wingkink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:34:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25505272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verfox/pseuds/verfox
Summary: hell yeah folks we got wingkink in here now. is what it says on the tin((used to be titled 'vane' fic has been very lightly edited for correct terminology and more accurate descriptions))It's when he returns to the living room, shaking his head to clear the annoying thoughts, a can of soda in each hand, that it happens.Tommy's on the couch (correct, expected), shirtless (not expected, but fine, normal), stretching out a pair of wings so long their tips are nearly brushing against the walls a bit (what. thefuck?).He definitely didn't have those five minutes ago when Gordon walked away.
Relationships: Tommy Coolatta/Gordon Freeman
Series: anatomy of a feather [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1913248
Comments: 10
Kudos: 160





	rachis

**Author's Note:**

> so the other day i woke up with a singluar thought on my mind; "nobody has written hlvrai wingfic yet" and i had to fuckin fix that asap. back at it will fillin the tommy explicit tag for it! enjoy!

Everything that'd happened at Black Mesa had come and gone, and while Gordon supposes he can’t really say if things have 'gone back to normal,' it seems like things are as close as they are ever going to get.

The days of constant adrenaline and vigilance have passed, and the days of waiting for the other shoe to drop have calmed to a once-in-a-while kind of worry.

Gordon still can’t be sure how he'd word his relationship with any of the Science Team, though - bonds formed under the threat of death are just. Different, he supposes. Harder to categorize someone as just a 'friend' when they'd literally taken bullets for you and vice versa. He’s even found himself not minding the company of Benrey a few times by now ( _ just _ a few, he maintains), though there are other reasons a term like 'friend' doesn’t feel right for  _ him _ .

Gordon sighs heavily. He's been putting too much thought into this lately, with no larger worries occupying his time. It shouldn't matter so much but as a scientist he loves trying to put things in boxes and label them. As a  _ theoretical physicist _ he knows it's rarely that easy though.

It's when he returns to the living room, shaking his head to clear the annoying thoughts, a can of soda in each hand, that it happens.

Tommy's on the couch (correct, expected), shirtless (not  _ expected _ , but fine, normal), stretching out a pair of wings so long their tips are nearly brushing against the walls a bit (what. the  _ fuck _ ?).

He definitely  _ didn't _ have those five minutes ago when Gordon walked away.

They're long and narrow, remind him almost of a seagull or something; he's not terribly familiar with birds. He's kind of standing awkwardly in the doorway with his jaw on the floor, but Tommy doesn't seem to notice his staring. He can't see the small details (or the undersides) from here, but from what he  _ can  _ see, the feathers are largely brown, with darker coloration around his shoulders. Some of the feathers toward the middle have lighter edges, with the last grouping on either side having a pair of golden bars along the bottom.

They don’t look like any birds’ wings he’s ever seen but they  _ are  _ pretty.

Tommy stretches to one side, gently bending the opposite wing, and then the other, before turning his head back and waving a little. He doesn’t seem nervous or embarrassed, so he probably didn’t notice that Gordon had been staring (he hopes).

So Gordon tries to act like this is normal - that’s better than getting stressed and yelling, right? and he’d been working on that - and sits on the couch, a little farther away from Tommy than he needs to be, and actively leaning a bit forward to give him as much room as possible. He hands Tommy his soda without making eye contact. He hits play on the remote, and almost starts to lean back before remembering, flinching a little.

After a moment of silence Gordon pipes up. “So what's with the uhhh. Wings? man.”

“Sometimes you just, just gotta stretch  _ eeeeverryyything _ , G-Gordon,” he responds, as if that answers the question  _ at all _ .

“You didn’t  _ have them _ five minutes ago?” Gordon lilts toward the end like it’s a question, and Tommy shrugs.

“I c-can shape, uh, shapeshift, too, y’know.”

Ah. Well that explains everything. Right.

***

The next time Gordon walks into a room and Tommy’s wings are on display, he’s more curious than confused.

He walks up behind the other man, who’d been stretching out on the couch, like before, and places his hand down on a wing, just next to the shoulder. If his research is right, these are the scapular feathers. They’re not as soft as he thought they’d be, he muses, running his fingers lightly over the feathers.

“Do they hurt?” Gordon asks, simply. They’re big, stands to reason they’d be heavy and make one’s muscles sore. “Your wings?”

Tommy remains silent for a moment, until Gordon pokes right between the shoulders of his wings to get his attention. He sits up straight at that, his feathers rustling as he draws them up a bit.

“Not exactly,” Tommy starts, not turning around, but relaxing his wings again. “Th-they, the, my...back hurts, but my, uh, wings don’t really get s-sore unless a feather b-breaks or something.”

Gordon hums in acknowledgement and places his hands back on Tommy, on his shoulders, and starts pressing and rubbing without being asked. He knows Tommy would never directly ask for help with something like sore muscles. But also…. It’s kind of fucking cool as  _ hell _ that the man even  _ has _ wings, and it gives him an excuse to keep staring at them up close.

From here he can lean forward just enough to see the other sides of the wings. The inside is a bit more like tan than brown, and the feathers are mostly solid, without the lighter edges. The gold bars at the ends of what Gordon now knows are the primaries are present on this side, too, though.

While he rubs Tommy’s shoulder with his left hand, his right moves back to the wing on that side, softly sliding his fingers against the scapulars again, and along the top as far as he can reach. Then, he drags his hand down, and then back again, to the shoulder. Tommy flinches as Gordon’s finger catches and pulls a feather the wrong way, sitting up and drawing his wings close, like before.

Gordon says “sorry,” before Tommy has the chance to respond, and withdraws his hand from the wing. He returns his focus to just giving the man a massage, rolling both palms against his shoulders. Tommy relaxes again soon after. As he makes his way lower, he finds the feathers directly on Tommy’s back to be a bit softer than the others, and gently pets them (making sure not to drag the wrong way again).

He’s so engrossed he doesn’t notice the breathless sigh Tommy lets out, and instead barrels right ahead. “Hey can I get a better look at these?” he gestures, and, realizing Tommy can’t see behind him, adds, “The primary feathers?”

Tommy nods sharply in response, but doesn’t get very far in readjusting when Gordon takes the wing in hand and manhandles it to the angle he wants.

He takes a primary between his fingers, taking care not to bend or push it. It’s rougher than the feathers on the shoulder and the secondaries, as well. Up close the gold markings almost seem to glow as he rubs the pad of his finger along the rachis of a feather.

Suddenly the feathers puff out for a moment before settling back into place.

Gordon relinquishes his hold on the wing and turns his attention, finally, to Tommy.

His head is turned to look toward Gordon from the side of his face, and his face is deeply flushed, and he’s breathing heavily.

Oh.

Huh.

Tommy’s not much of one for eye contact to begin with, but he’s looking pointedly away from Gordon, despite being turned toward him.

“A-are you done  _ studying _ me?” It's even more obvious how out of breath he is when he speaks, and Gordon isn’t sure how to deal with this situation, he  _ really _ should've paid better attention -

“Th-then….” Tommy turns his head back forward, and sort of slides off the front of the couch. “Y-you should know. Y-you aren’t s-supposed to pet, uh, a bird’s wings….”

Gordon straightens up suddenly, and carefully steps around Tommy’s wing to stand in front of him.him.

From here, Gordon can see exactly how wrecked Tommy is.

And then the thought hits him that  _ he _ did this to him, and Tommy had done such a good job playing along and staying quiet despite the fact that his facial expression looks pained, and that sends a jolt of heat straight down Gordon’s spine. 

It’s no wonder why he looks so fucked up though, the tent in his pants is far from small, and it looks uncomfortable as hell.

Gordon steps closer and Tommy reaches a hand out to him. Unsure what to make of the gesture Gordon grabs it, and Tommy pulls him down into his lap with a surprising strength.

“S-so,” Tommy starts, grinding up against Gordon, “you w-weren’t being, uh, being a very g-good scientist. Sh, you should...clean up y-your mess.”

Gordon can feel his own jeans getting tighter already. He’d have agreed to this regardless of the circumstances, but seeing Tommy desperate and underneath him  _ does _ something to him, and he leans in to press a heavy kiss against Tommy, who opens his mouth right away and deepens the kiss.

Gordon humps down, moving his hands back to Tommy’s now  _ clearly _ sensitive wings. He doesn’t stop rubbing their cocks together as he reaches under a wing, behind Tommy's back, right where it meets skin and spreads his fingers out against the soft feathers there. He runs a nail over the rachis of a feather and it’s over already; Tommy keens as his hips stutter, and his hands grab desperately at Gordon’s shoulders, and Gordon can feel his dick twitch against his own as he cums.

Gordon slows his pace, and pulls back a bit while he waits for Tommy to come to, still twitching and taking heavy, shuddering breaths.

After just a moment Tommy lifts his head from where it’d fallen back against the couch, and looks at Gordon, the afterglow evident on his face.

Tommy won’t mind if Gordon gets himself off, right? So Gordon figures, and so he reaches down when Tommy interrupts him.

“L-let me help with that,” he says, and pushes Gordon’s hands out of the way, rubbing him through his jeans twice before getting to the zipper and shoving down his boxers just enough to get to his dick.

Gordon realizes, obviously far too late, that they probably should’ve done the same for Tommy to save a mess, but the thought that he made the man cum in his pants is also fucking  _ hot _ .

He’s already slick with pre, and Tommy seems to know what he’s doing, leaning in to work at Gordons throat with his tongue and teeth while he jerks him off. Gordon grabs at Tommy’s short hair, tangling his fingers in it as best he can. Tommy groans against Gordon’s neck as he does this, and that’s whit tips Gordon over the edge, humping up into Tommy’s hand.

It takes a second of heavy breathing for Gordon to come back down, but when he looks again, Tommy’s wings are no longer visible, and he’s got a smile plastered on his face.

“I-I didn’t realize you l, you liked my wings so m-much, Gordon. You can see th-them more often, if you want?”

Gordon wants that, definitely, but for now he just wants to cuddle, leaning in close to Tommy until he realizes they’re kind of both covered in cum now.

He sighs, thinking back to earlier.

Those boxes and labels won’t be getting any easier any time soon.

**Author's Note:**

> as always, comments fuel the ritual pyre, and i appreciate kudos as well!
> 
> ((hey folks i made a tumblr so ya'll can send me stuff direct! its [verfox.tumblr.com](http://verfox.tumblr.com).))


End file.
